The Ridiculousness

A pebble dropped in water comes to mind when I think about life in general. The way I see it is like we're all trying to make a big impact, yet the truth is - the only real impact we're making is an emotional impact on others.

This pebble has hurt others in the past and has been hurt in return. It's always surprising to see those same people moving on from what seem like such a large devistating moments. But the thing is, that moment eventually becomes completely insignificant to everyone else but the guilty party. The guilty one is left to assume, regret and ridicule themselves to no end. Maybe if we could see the people we hurt move on, then we too could move on. For the majority of the times in which we inflict pain, this cannot be done. And so, we are left with our self hatred. How can someone get out of this spiral? Does the end lie in trusting oneself again?

For one, it's all about trusting that you have the right judgement when it comes to others. Having "trust issues" seems a universal personal problem with which we can easily dismiss our pain and frustrations. Maybe having trust issues isn't an entirely negative thing. In my experience, people don't intentionally hurt you - but their actions are none-the-less careless and inconsiderate. Being cautious before jumping headfirst into love has the potential to save you from the ridiculousness.

Now the ridiculousness occurs when two people start a passionate relationship where everything appears to be perfect: they could talk for hours, they think about each other all the time, they become reliant on one another for happiness, and they fuck like bunnies. But eventually - ridiculousness kicks in and they become miserable and fed up with each other. They didn't take the time to discover the small things - infidelities, dependency, untrustworthiness, overprotectiveness - that could possibly destroy the passion in their relationship.

So I guess the conclusion I come to is that we have to realize that there is no such thing as perfect as long as we are human. We should enjoy the fun found in having relationships with others. Yet, we should never lose ourselves in the devastation of the waves of careless pebbles.

Just knowing... (I think)

that you might be thinking of me too makes me happy. Maybe you're thinking how much you're happier without me or how much you miss the person I used to be. I think about you every second, even if I'm dancing, smiling, eating or sleeping. I think about all the things I should have said on the phone but didn't. I know I miss you more than ever. I wish you would call, but I know you don't want to and wont.

I think being told that my personality isn't the personality you fell in love with made me calm down and appreciate the people that love me just as much as they did before. (MADDY!) It also made me look at the world around me and question why it is so important to do the things I do. I thank you for that.

I think that I'm trying to find happiness here. This might be a school where people drink excessively, but the key is to find those genuine moments where a stranger holds a door for you, smiles at you as you pass by, makes the awkward elevator ride less awkward, or simply asks you how you are doing. The stars still shine here and at the end of the day everyone goes to bed after working their hardest.

I'm still miserable without you and cry when I'm alone in my bed. I wake up every time my phone vibrates with the hope that it's you.

I still miss my home and the days of sitting in my high school's hallways and eating lunch with you on the hill. I'm confused because in my mind I'm that same girl, just in a different environment. It hurts that you'll never talk to me again because you think I'm different and that I'll never be able to prove you wrong.

I talked to my mom today...

and I told her why I've been so miserable lately (crying randomly, sulking in my room for days, wearing my ray-bans all the time to hide my swollen eyes). I said that I'm terrified that I made a big mistake; that I ended a relationship that was really special and that I don't deserve to be loved by anyone. I don't want to think about if I did the right thing or not, but I can't help but feel like I cut off my own leg and now I'm struggling to walk. It's a cheesy simile, I know. It's the only way I can describe it. I told myself that it was the right thing to do over and over again. But when I think of the type of person I want to spend my life with, I think of him. I screwed up big time and perhaps I'll never be as happy as I once was.
When I broke up with him, I could never pin point the exact reason why. I now know that it was simply the geographic distance between us. It led to a loss of trust that I couldn't handle. After a long day of school, he wanted me to talk to him, which was not too much to ask. But he was in a bad place and wanted my support. However, I can barely support myself, and I just couldn't take it. We would fight about little things because we were drifting so far apart.
Now that we're apart indefinitely ( because now I know his parents hated me all along), I only think of the great times we had: eating lunch at our high school, hugging his back while he was on the computer, watching American Beauty and eating cereal off his chest, checking ourselves out in the mirror, walking to future shop, standing outside in the cold waiting for the bus, riding the bus and drawing invisible hearts on each other, going to Said the Whale, staying in bed all day, crying on each other, him falling asleep on my chest, talking on skype for hours while he was away in the summer, drinking beer, eating spits and watching hockey, holding each other while watching Wall-e (I cried) and having him care when I cried.

I could honestly go on forever. I think I would be ok if I knew that he remembered all these things and they didn't cause him pain. But, I know that he doesn't anymore, because they hurt him too much and so, all the good times we had are left to me to remember. And it's not a good memory if only you remember it and the other person sees it as a lie, regretting every moment, and for a good reason. I'm a heart breaker: first his, then my own.

I'll love you always.

I read somewhere that love is like a drug; When you go cold turkey you experience an addict's withdrawal symptoms. I can vouch for that.

I find it hard to get to sleep and to get out of bed in the morning. Every happy song seems depressing. Little things stab at my bleeding heart and I hold back tears. I wish I could restart my heart on a different track. I wish Bon Iver didn't remind me of being loved.
I miss the little simple things that I took for granted. The hand holding, having a shoulder to cry on, someone to laugh at your dumb jokes, stare at you forever because they truly believe that you're beautiful, listening to sweet music, falling asleep being held and not waking up feeling alone and unloved. I wish I could hide away in these memories, but they make me so sad because I threw them away. Life became too complicated and love was lost. And I miss it so much every second of every day. I feel like the only lonely person in the world and I would do anything not to be alone.

The Stupid Things in Life

Since I've been in University, I have started to wonder what exactly makes people do stupid things. There's no doubt to the fact I've done a lot of stupid things in my life - some that I really should regret and perhaps never talk about again... but what's the fun in that? Anyways, I have two major exams tomorrow, so I'll try and wrap this up quickly with a convenient list of the top 7 stupid things I've sadly done, in no particular order:

7. Kissing my friend. Things became super awkward.
6. Taking one puff of a cigarette and hating it -don't worry, it was gross- (Swore to myself I never would when my aunt died of breast cancer.)
5. Vodka hospital list/Disappointing my parents.
4. Getting drunk and completely naked, somehow ending up in my friend's dad's office wrapped in a foam mattress cover.
3. Almost pulling out into oncoming traffic during a driver's lesson.
2. Drinking two energy drinks, smoking, and also drinking beer all in one night.
1. Accidentally (stupidly) taking too much medicine for my cold on an empty stomach -last night- and thus ended up puking and hallucinating for hours.

The funny thing is that I started off with a list of 5 and just started coming up with more. I'm just glad that I came out of all these experiences alive. I wonder if everyone has crazy stories to tell. I didn't think that I had much to hide until I considered all the crap that has happened over the years.

A sane person would say that they would go back in time and change it all. But, if time travel movies have taught us anything, it's that no matter how often time repeats itself, you'll probably just end up doing the same things over again:

I kissed my friend because I liked him. I knew it would be awkward in the morning, but at the time I didn't care. I wanted him to know.

I took that puff of the cigarette because it was offered and at the time I wasn't thinking for myself.

The vodka hospital visit happened because I honestly didn't know how much alcohol to drink or that alcohol effects people so quickly.

I got drunk at my friend's for fun, I passed out in her bed and that's all I remember. It was the first time I ever blacked out (without a hospital visit). The shit that happened after, happened without me being fully conscious.

My driving slip up happened because I don't pay enough attention when I'm driving. I'm insecure about my eyesight and once I get stressed I can't concentrate.

All the drinking, smoking and alcohol consumption happened because I wanted to see what it felt like.

And finally, last night was stupid because I didn't eat and took medicine. But, because I'm sick I don't have an appetite.

All of these things happened because of the choices I made, many which were made without better judgment. But the one thing I can't stand is being with someone who is a constant reminder of these sad and very embarrassing lessons I've learned. Afterall, I have my own fine memory. An outsider, father figure, telling me what is best without participation or passion, is the last thing I need. Unless you're standing next to me when I'm about to fuck up, you have no right to tell me you told me so or that you have a right to look down on me. I'd rather be in this big fucked up world of stupid experimenting human beings than in a glass world of naive robot perfection and isolation.

I Think I Should Have Come With a Warning Sign Tattoed on My Heart

I really should be doing the copious amount of work on my plate right now. But, I really don't feel like writing a book review. I get sick way too often. It could be the drinking, the smoking, the constant stress, but I think it's because I'm falling apart. I believe that there is a direct correlation between the mess I'm in and the state of my mind. Seems pretty obvious.

Anyways, I like it here. In this giant concrete building full of crazy teens, breaking windows with their asses, pulling fire alarms at 2am, and causing a general ruckus. I also love it here. When you're sick, there are people that give a shit. You have no idea how many people offered me tea to help me feel better. But, the thing is, all I really need is time. Time is always seen as a bad thing. We fear it as we get older, we curse it when we die. I've been watching too much Six Feet Under. Damn that show is depressing. I think I spent at least 13 hours yesterday watching one episode after another... It doesn't really open your eyes to anything new. Everyone dies, people cheat on each other, people often die alone/young/old, sometimes people let each other down, and in the end it really doesn't matter where you go when you die. If heaven is real, then that's awesome, but for a lot of us, our lives are our hell. One of my greatest fears is to never get out of this mess I've made. One of my greatest hopes is to be an extra in a zombie movie. But, overall, I want to fix more hearts than I break. Maybe I'm not the right person for the job though, soon I'll figure it out and perhaps I should become a funeral director like the brothers on Six Feet Under. Then I wont have to worry about hurting people.

Anyways, back to work to keep my mind off of my sickness. I hope it will go away soon, but then again it's kinda comforting to feel the constant effects of my misery. I need to keep telling myself that the world is a beautiful place and that I'm in a wonderful situation in life. I need to forget the fact that I'm inexperienced in the ways of the human heart. Someday, hopefully soon I'll learn. Until then I'll save up my money for an ad campaign to warn the world of my insanity.

I think I should write another short story. I haven't written anything creative in a long time.

Before Boys and Broken Hearts

It's been a month today since I last wrote on this lovely blog and I think it's about time I reflect on who I am. Things haven't been very clear to me for awhile. I've been crying much more than normally and had two panic attacks last month. I stress way too much about things I can't control, but I think the major factor is that I put too much pressure on myself to be perfect all the time, which is obviously impossible. If I understood myself and my limits I would be able to get through scratch free. But lately I've come to realize the power one person's opinion can have on your well-being. Two people I love are telling me two different things about who I am and how I present myself to them. It's sad that I have to rely on other people to understand myself, but that's why there's people who are paid to do so. Anyways, I'm feeling much like the awful person that I've been told to be right now. I wish I could see who I am and understand why my actions might hurt, but I'm not sure where to start. Well, I'll guess I'll begin by reflecting on my life before boys and broken hearts.

For the longest time I was never comfortable with the girl in the mirror or the girl in pictures, many teenage girls/boys likely go through the same thing. Luckily I am blessed with amazing friends who are unique and fun. Unknowingly they helped me through rough times by simply being there and in that way managed to shape me into who I am today. Because of their presence and influence, soon I began to view the good intentioned (sometimes major fuck-up) yet stubborn vegetarian looking back at me in the mirror as a good thing. The girl behind the glasses was changing for the better (in my opinion). I started working out, eventually I became confident enough to wear nicer/tighter clothes (that I never wore because I was ashamed) thus attracting compliments from family and friends. I lost weight, but I also lost the bulk of clothes designed for people to hide in. I began to push myself hard in school because for one I love learning and two I thrive off receiving praise for my hard work. - I was finally getting the much needed ego boost that I had denied myself for the longest time, which had left me miserable and lonely. I am so lucky to have such a great family, environment and group of friends to support me and make me feel loved.

Now let's get to the boys and broken hearts part. Don't get me wrong, I did attract the attention of boys before my boyfriend, but I never understood why they would want to date me. I know eh? Pity party for me! But, seriously, it never occurred to me that they might find me pretty or that maybe I had a personally that appealed to them or something. I'd turn them down thinking I was doing THEM a favor. Jesus. My "oh pity me" ways not only hurt myself, but also those boys that probably genuinely liked me as a person. In the words of my father: "you're a heart breaker, that's not a good thing." When I would turn them down, I saw myself getting more and more miserable, burying myself in giant sweaters from value and hating people for some retarded reason. My actions made me hate myself and I was spiraling into some metaphysical pit of permanent isolation. Then the craziest thing happened, one boy managed to get through my defenses. For some crazy reason he found the giant sweater wearing awkward girl to his liking. At this point I was already beginning to change myself (working out, becoming more friendly, etc.).

So now back to these conflicting attitudes. This brave boy, who saw me at my weakest point, doesn't like the person I've become. Lately I've been celebrating my confidence by wearing girly clothes, by painting my nails neon pink and loving the way my bikini looks on me. Some might call me fake or something, hypocritical etc etc. But I'm finally doing what makes me happy and sadly I haven't been happy for a long time. Too bad that it doesn't make the people who count happy. Well, I don't think my personality has changed much, I'm still a goof ball, jokester, obnoxious, sifi nerd, non-gossip, loner and often shy girl. I am proud to say that I'm not afraid to speak my mind anymore. My teachers helped a lot in that department, but also the eye surgery that I received helped with my fear of eye contact. I never really mentioned that. But that also made me avoid boys because who would want to date the crazy-cock-eyed girl who was afraid to take off her glasses. All in all, I had believed these changes were for the better but, I think I'm as vulnerable now as when I started. I hear that I'm a good person from my mom, as to be expected. But on the other hand I'm told I'm a bitch and a slut, with no one in mind except herself. I take it all to heart even if they are jokes because I'm stupid and weak and I'm left with old miserable self once more and I not sure what to think about the confident girl in the mirror anymore. I think I'll miss her when she's gone, even if she wasn't a great person. I know that I never intend to do awful things, I believe that I have good intentions. But did I have to pay a price to get to this point? I think I have, for I feel so unloved right now despite being surrounded by my family.

I'm going to Kingston in September. I'll hopefully be making new friends and will be beginning to stand on my own. My worst fear is that I'll lose the girl in the mirror. I think I like her - despite some negative reviews.

I've grown so much since I first started this blog. I'm proud of who I have become. The scary thing is, I'm not sure how long I can keep telling myself that if I don't really believe it.

Robert Browning and the Jealousy

For the first time on my blog, I have to recommend an amazing poem to the masses. We read it today in English class and like most things taught in English, one may assume that it is some Shakespearean bull. But, don't judge too soon, for the haunting after effects the poem leaves, can easily make it hard for you to sleep tonight or to look your loved one in the eyes. So, without much further ado, I give you my new favourite poem from the great lyrical poet, Robert Browning.

Porphyria's Lover














The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me--she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!

Old Habits Die Hard

Or as I like to call it: OHDH. My dog is fine now. He had a tumor, but it wasn't cancer. Well, for the longest time no one yelled at Rocky, no one got mad at him in anyway. Since, he was likely to die. He's alive and you know what? It's back to the beginning. Why can't we cherish the days with our dog, not wait for the next time we have a scare? So now it's OK to kick the dog right? He's not dying so you won't feel guilty. I'd like to know that you do though. But, I know it's the same as it was before. No more guilt. Well, I never felt guilty about it cause I never did it. No one has a right to kick a dog, even if it growls at you because it thought you were going to take its toy. You wouldn't dare do that to a child. You'd end up in jail. A dog doesn't mean as much as a child to you though. Ya, sure you'd cry if it might have cancer, but the thought of causing it harm doesn't faze you one bit. I'm protecting him from now on. You crazy religious freaks believe animals are lower than you. I guess you are just making up for that fact that you can't kill and eat him, you have to express your dominance somehow right? Animals have prices on their heads. Not because it's been there since the beginning of time, no, it's because we put them there. And let's just pull our heads from our asses for a few seconds to see that animals have every right to be here. No harm is done by them. They are creatures based on instinct, now we... we might be right about one thing. We are smart. Maybe we are too smart to always run on instinct and too blind to realize when our instincts are wrong. Sure, its kept us alive for a few years. But, do you feel good about it? O wait. Feelings are for sissies. And who needs to feel good anyways... people with souls? O well OHDH

To Find A Friend

You know how it is like when you are young? You know! Like in kindergarten...

"Do you want to be my friend?"

"Sure! let's be best friends!"

"Sounds awesome! let's go talk about boys and dream about gumdrops and bubble gum castles."

The sad thing is that doesn't seem to work anymore. But, if you make friends in kindergarten then you wont have to worry about making anymore friends that way. My problem is that I have ditched all those people who wanted to be my friend way back in the day. Destined to be alone. Ha. I've made this for myself and only have yours truly to blame. Blame, it seems to be a hot topic in my life. Sad ain't it? Pity and blame. Can't we all just live with peace and love man? Hippies are totally gone! Why is that? They've all been ditched... Hatred and power are taking over and I'm the god damned leader of the pack. I'm pitiful. Pity me. I'm sick and I'm going to sleep. The only place I can hide from your eyes. Forgive me. I'm sort of sorry. Sorry. It is so overused these days. That was the topic of this post FYI. It sort of got lost between the lines a bit. But what I meant to say to those who I have hurt...

To find a friend, turn to the one closest to your left and look in their eyes. I have a feeling they wont be mine.

In Memorium

I've reached a stage where I have no opinions or feelings, I've exhausted every ounce. It's one of these times where I start to wonder where everything starts and where it all ends. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I want to write about love and living, but I haven't truly loved or even remotely lived. That's all there is to write about really. Since, how can you talk about your views on the world when you haven't read all the history books or even begun to understand...simply, why? I have no knowledge of anything in particular. I'm not sure if that realization hurts or not. Right now it's just a fact. How do I know if praying to God will save us all or if global warming will burn me alive? I have no idea. I'm sick of trying to find ways to explain things! They just are. We are so entirely lost, it's sort of humorous in a way. Sad in another. But, then again how do you know that you are lost if you don' t know where you should be? See... more fucking questions. My head is going to explode. I'm finding it an effort to type this out, but I need to because I haven't written anything since my mice died. It's so plain written up there on the screen, but the pain was more than I expected when I saw them lying in their cage. It wasn't normal or as I had hoped that they would have passed on. They were stiff and they weren't together. At opposite ends I believe. I couldn't move for a little while, I had my back to the cage for a good hour and a half. Shit, I must have looked like Lady Macbeth wringing her hands muttering,"Out damned spot." I have to laugh at myself or I would start to remember the feeling of finding my friends dead from heat exhaustion after leaving them to go to my cottage. I never even thought about them as I got sunburned and watched my cousin pretend to get drunk off of two coolers. As cliched as it is, I never said good-bye. I just filled their food bowl and left. I held them before I put them in their cardboard coffin. Their eyes were open and I could swear that they were warm (probably from being roasted alive). They could have easy been sleeping. I shook them a little and muttered to them. Shit, it haunts me. I held them and I hated myself for not taking them with me. I have this image of my two mice lying in a cold wet cardboard box, running in circles trying to find a way out of the hole I buried them in. I still do, no matter how many times I fake a smile. I must have looked like a stupid idiot, standing in front of my shitty attempt at a grave, trying to not get eaten alive by mosquitoes and muttering words like "I'm so sorry", "I loved you" and swearing because I could not even think of something memorable to say. I could not even make something to mark their grave. My justification was, "they are just mice." The same justification that I told myself as I cried in the 40 degree weather, sitting on my deck, wringing my hands. I wanted to vomit. I sickened myself. I really did love them. It was the same as finding any other animal dead. Tish, Rainbow, Elmo or even Rocky. Everything has life and that life is eventually taken. It's the same for all living things. It was my dad talking, his voice telling me to stop crying, that he'll get me new ones to replace them, telling me that they are just mice, it's pathetic but true. The same man who told me to stop crying when I was little or told me to toughen up and stop acting like a child. Funny, now it seems that I can't stop. I don't want new mice. They will not replace or patch up this hurt. Albert had a limp, he always ran in circles. Hemingway loved his wheel and hated it when Albert would try and run on it. They used to fight each other, but I would find them cuddling sometimes. I'm crying as I write this, nose running, trying to type correctly through clouded eyes. Desperately trying to tell whoever is reading this that I feel so god damned guilty. True, I didn't actually put them outside, or left them out there for an hour. But, if I had cleaned their cage earlier maybe my dad would not have said that they smelled and put them outside. Maybe I deserve this pain. I got mice so that they would not be fed to a snake, but is roasting alive any better?